Somehow you just know when it’s happening. You feel like you’re not sure if you want it to happen or not. But somehow you just know. It’s your last baby and it’s the last time you’ll nurse him. You’re surprised that it’s happening already, yet ready.

When I nursed my son for the last time, it was late at night. He woke up and I thought, I need to nurse him, it will be the last time. I felt like he knew it too. He latched on right away and nursed away. I closed my eyes and cherished those few moments. I don’t think he really got much milk, but he had me and I had him. Then I put him up against my chest and let him sleep there. At eight months, he rarely sleeps on me anymore. He’s so busy crawling and playing. When he’s tired he takes his bottle and likes his crib, his cozy place. As I held him I quickly grabbed my phone and snapped a photo. I will always remember that night. I will always remember the feeling of nursing him and holding him close.

When I was pregnant with our fourth baby my husband said this is it. Our family is complete and happy. As a woman I struggled with the decision to say no more babies. I love babies! At 32 years old I feel too young to be done. Yet, with four healthy, rowdy boys, I’m very certain I don’t want to add any more testosterone to my household. At this point the odds are stacked that any more babies would be of the male variety. And I’m full up on that.

Yet, where do I go from here?